One Day at a Time
by mswyrr
Summary: Family is everyone who gets you through the bad days.
1. Chapter 1

**One Day at a Time**

[author's note: Sequel to "Little Notions." I'm posting the first half today and I'll have the conclusion up tomorrow. Neither this story nor the previous one would exist without my betas afigureofspeech, punkrockmuffinatrix, and stoppunchingmyllama. They've talked me through difficult sections, and given me so much help and advice. But most importantly, they've made writing this a joy and I thank them for that!]**  
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_"It's not the load that breaks you down... it's the way you carry it." _

―unknown

It was years since her death now, but Annie still hadn't learned how not to hope. When things got bad, she could be as tough as anybody. But when things were good, she felt like her heart was having a good long stretch, spreading out love all around, wishing for the best. It didn't take much, just a little joy. This time it was a full week of peaceful nights. Watching telly, bookended by her boys. Hal at her right side, knitting a jumper for Eve. Tom sprawled out to her left.

Leo hadn't mentioned it in his list, but if you put on a history programme Hal would grumble at it like a grumpy old man. He'd listen to the dialogue in a costume drama and mutter about how "we never spoke like that." Or say that the bodices in another show were all wrong for the time period. Tonight he was carrying on about a documentary on the Globe Theatre: the eminent professor being interviewed on screen was an "insolent youth" who needed to get his facts straight. Apparently Hal felt very strongly about Elizabethan theater. Annie listened to him rant and couldn't stifle her giggle. She glanced over at Tom nervously; he'd fallen asleep earlier and she didn't want to wake him. He was still exhausted from the full moon yesterday.

When she turned back to Hal, he was giving her a quizzical look. "What is it?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Hm?" she replied, just as quiet.

"You laughed."

"Oh. I was just thinking... you were _around _back then, weren't you?" she nodded toward the telly.

"Of course I was."

"Yeah. And you must have... well, I'm just picturing you in a pair of those," she pointed at the screen, "those ridiculous puffy trousers, hose, and a," she gestured at her own throat, "ruff." She giggled again, hand raised to her mouth.

"I can't say how delighted I am to amuse you, Annie," Hal deadpanned.

"Aww," she said, giving his shoulder a nudge with hers. "Don't be like that. I bet you were very handsome."

"The ladies did love a well-turned calf," he admitted, with a little smirk.

"Yeah," she could easily imagine _that. _"But you have to admit, all of it looks a bit silly now."

"Everything will be silly one day," he said, like it was a certainty. The sky is blue, what goes up must come down, and with time everything familiar will grow strange.

It made her feel uncomfortable, glimpsing all those years. "I guess you'd know," Annie replied, her humour gone.

"I've seen it happen often enough."

"Not a very good thought, is it?" she asked. She'd found the way Hal acted funny, but now it just seemed so sad. How long would it be until _she _was like him? Remembering a world no one else did. Grumbling at the telly because younger people couldn't really understand, no matter how hard they tried.

Hal frowned. "Suppose not," he said quietly. Reaching out with care, he patted her shoulder.

She felt warmed that he'd notice how she was feeling and try to help. "Let's see what else is on," she said, picking up the remote. It didn't seem nice to tease him with history programmes anymore. She clicked through the channels until they found a cooking show he liked. She sent covert glances at him as they watched; he looked like he was making mental notes about the recipes. It was cute. She found herself hoping that he'd still be around, if she had to face a world grown strange one day.

That had been a couple days ago. All of it somehow came together to make Annie expect good things: telly and the company of friends, her own small portion of peace. But tonight, when the boys came home, Hal went straight up to his room and Tom flopped down beside her looking morose. Annie gave it time, hoping they'd come out of this mood all on their own. But she soon grew impatient.

"Where's Hal?" she asked Tom. "The news will be on soon." Since he'd moved in, he'd rarely missed it.

Tom shifted, frowning. "I don't think he'll be down. He's having one of his bad days." He lowered his voice on the last two words, as if to signify their importance.

"What happened? Another rude customer?"

"Nah, nothing like that. Nothin' _happened._He's having trouble, that's all."

Annie tilted her head. "How can you tell?"

"It's the way he looks at people sometimes, yeah?" Tom explained with a half-shrug. "Or doesn't look at 'em, like it's dangerous just looking. And there was-" he trailed off.

"What?"

Tom looked her right in the eye. "Promise you won't kick him out?"

Jesus. What had Hal done? Annie didn't feel comfortable giving that kind of blanket immunity. "I don't know about that..." Tom looked so downcast, she hastened to reassure him. "But I do know that if something's bothering you, it's better to talk about it. And if he hasn't _hurt _anybody-"

"He hasn't."

"-well, then we can talk it out." She gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "And it'll be fine."

Tom bit his lip, then nodded. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled up letter. "As we were comin' home, he gave me this," he said, handing it to her.

Annie looked it over. "A utility bill? For..." she squinted, tilting the letter toward the light, "Sandra Kinney?" Annie was confused. "Who's she?"

"Our last customer of the day," Tom said. "Hal said he found it at her table, but... why didn't he put it behind the counter like we always do? An' when he gave it to me, he looked guilty."

"Oh." Annie looked down at the innocuous envelope with new eyes. This was evidence of some kind of... vampire stalking thing. Her lip curled in disgust. Setting the letter down in her lap, she spread her hands out on either side of it, not wanting to hang onto it, but she couldn't let go of it either. She felt passing anger at Hal for having a 'bad day' and making her have to think about this. It wasn't very nice, but neither was stalking women, was it?

"I could hurt somebody when I transform," Tom said, bringing her attention back to him. "Just 'coz it hasn't happened yet don't mean it won't. I have nightmares about it. But I don't have to go around _liking_ the idea of it while I'm me, do I? I don't know." He scrubbed a hand over his face, shook his head. "I don't know. What's that like? How do you live with that. She was," he nodded at the letter in Annie's lap, "the lady, she was so nice. She had her little son with her. An' I just... don't know _how_." He bowed his head.

Annie didn't know either, and she was honest enough with herself to know that she didn't ever want to know, even if she could. Just thinking about it was bad enough. But she couldn't say that to Tom, could she? She rubbed his shoulders. "But you were there and it was okay. He," she picked up the envelope, "was strong enough to trust you with this when he couldn't trust himself. And everything's going to be all right now."

Tom looked up at her. "You don't have to say things jus' to make me feel better." He was very kind when he said it, but it made her heart hurt. Sometimes she wished he was more of the young boy she tended to think of him as. Then she could tell him comforting stories and he'd believe them. It would be nice to be able to make him feel safe just a little bit.

"It's not wishful thinking if we can make it true," she said finally. It was the best she could come up with - for either of them.

He seemed to take comfort in that, nodding. "Okay."

Tapping the envelope against her leg, Annie frowned. "I should go talk to him. Shouldn't I?" There wasn't anyone else to do it. It would be unfair to push it off on Tom right now.

"I dunno. What can you say about a thing like that? 'I'm sorry you're feeling like killing people more than usual just now'?" Tom looked so helpless. "I haven't been able to get more than a word out of him all day."

"Still, I'll try." She couldn't just sit here and do nothing. It would make her hopeful platitudes look empty, for one thing.

"All right," Tom agreed. "But let me watch her?" he asked, nodding at Eve's bassinet.

Annie glanced between the two of them, shocked. "Do you really think...?"

"Not worth the risk, is it?"

"Okay." She pulled him into a quick hug before she left. He looked like he needed it.

vVv

Annie stood outside Hal's door, working up the courage to knock. She didn't know what to say. It worried her. But she'd found, since she became the unofficial leader around here, that most of the time _anything_ would do. Someone just had to step up.

Biting her lip, she gave a rapid knock and pushed the door open before she lost her nerve.

Hal was doing press ups in the middle of the floor. It was a familiar sight, but something looked wrong. He was still in his work trousers and white shirt, which was getting awfully sweaty. Looking closer, she saw that his arms were shaking.

"Hal?"

He kept going. He usually gave off a sense of focus when he worked out, but his pace now was intense. Feverish.

"Hal," she said again, sharper this time.

He turned his head to look at her without pausing. "What?" he panted. His face was dripping sweat, and his eyes looked glassy.

"Stop," she snapped. "What are you doing? _Stop it_."

He froze, looking up at her. Instead of rising in a smooth motion, he crumpled in on himself, hands and knees on the floor, arms still shaking.

"What?" he said again, still looking dazed.

To give herself something to do, Annie grabbed a towel off the stationary bike. Bending down, she put it across his shoulders.

"We need to talk," she said uneasily. Backing off, she sat down on his bed.

He turned to face her, sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up. He wasn't _quite_ hugging them.

"Okay," he said. Nothing else. He just stared up at her.

Monosyllabic was a new side of him.

"How long were you doing that - doing the press ups?" she asked, trying to start out easy.

Hal blinked slowly. "I don't know," he said. "Since I got home?"

"That was half an hour ago," Annie said, concerned.

"Oh."

"Okay," Annie said, diving in. "Tom told me you were having a bad day. And I guess you really are. Because this," she waved her hand, encompassing the sweaty, shaking mess he'd made of himself, "isn't... normal."

"I needed to focus," he replied, skirting the issue.

Annie frowned. He wasn't going to make this easy. Glancing around the room for inspiration, her eyes fell on the photo Hal kept of Leo above the fireplace. The older looking man's smile calmed her and made her feel sad all at once. Leo would know what to do. She wished he was here for Hal almost as much as she sometimes wished George and Nina and Mitchell would just _be here_ for her and Eve.

But they weren't. Hal once called them Eve's "make do parents." Looking back down at him, she guessed she could be a make do Leo in a pinch. Even though his list of instructions hadn't said _anything _about this, she thought with some bitterness.

Annie wasted time straightening a wrinkle in her grey wrap. "Okay." Time to bring out the big guns. "I saw the envelope."

Hal gave her the same line he'd given Tom. "I forgot it in my apron."

Annie nodded. "Yeah. I don't think you should lie to me about this," she said, as nicely as she could. "You can lie about drinking milk straight from the carton and whose turn it is to take out the trash and-and things like that. But not about this. Not about... how you were thinking about stalking some poor woman from the cafe. That's... that's not something you keep to yourself."

As she spoke, Hal had wrapped his arms tighter around his knees, his body language going full on self-protective. His gaze fixed on the wall behind her, he asked, "Do you want me to leave?" There was a flat, despairing quality to his voice.

"No!" she said, horrified at how badly this was going. "What? No! I'm trying to _help_. Okay?" She softened her voice, "I'm just trying to help. Talk to me?"

"Okay," he started. "That woman," he took a breath, flexing his hand as if was wishing he had a domino tile nearby. "I memorized her address the moment I saw it. I gave the envelope to Tom but," he raised his index finger to his head, pressed it hard against his temple, "it's still _here_. I remember... how she smells. Where she lives. And I keep _thinking_ about it." He shuddered, exhaling a rough breath. "It's like I'm drowning. It's - I just want it to stop_,_ Annie."

He looked so young and scared, it made her heart hurt. She could see tears forming before he blinked them back.

"But you let it go," she said, grasping to reassure him. "You let it go, and you let Tom know what was going on, even if you didn't really say. That was good. Then you came in here and..." _went a bit mental_, "tried to focus. You did the right thing."

"It isn't enough," he said. Ever the perfectionist.

"Did this happen before, when you were with Leo?"

"Not often. It was a more stable environment," he explained. "Less people."

He didn't seem to mean it as an accusation, but Annie felt bad. He had told her things would get worse if he had to go out around humans, but she'd had to push him out there anyway.

"But you were doing better," Annie said, confused. "With the journalist and... Eve. You've been doing better."

Why was this happening now?

Shaking his head, Hal sighed. "It doesn't work like that. It's not a switch I have to flip on, or something that gets easier over time. It's an addiction. It's _always_ going to be there. Better sometimes, but it can always get worse. Every day is a fight." He swallowed, the muscles of his throat flexing. "Do you know, I _envy _alcoholics?" He gave a bitter laugh. "I used to hear programmes about them on the radio and wish I had their problem instead. If I were an alcoholic, I could go to a meeting on a bad day. Talk to a sponsor. But I don't... there's no support group for this. No sponsors. I used to have Leo..."

"He didn't mention any of this in his list of instructions," Annie said, taking the opportunity to ask about that. "Why is that?"

"He wanted you to take me in," Hal said. "He was a good man, but he wasn't above leaving a few things out."

"But he seemed so nice," Annie marveled, glancing up at the photograph. "Grandfatherly."

Hal laughed for real now, a warm chuckle. "He was the strongest person I've ever met. And the fiercest. When he thought something was right, he'd do anything to make it happen." Hal shrugged.

"Well, since he didn't say, why don't you tell me what he'd do, if he was here?"

"He'd give me tasks to focus on," he said. "Orders, so I didn't have to think. Sometimes... on one of the beds, we had these straps..."

Annie made a face. "He _tied you up_?" It sounded wrong, to do that to your friend. Though there was that one time George bought a cage...

"They were the same straps we had us use on _him_ during the full moon, Annie." His posture was straighter now; he was ashamed of a lot of things, but not this. "We took care of each other. The times he did it... it was a kindness. I was fighting so hard, and it was only when I was restrained that I could finally _breathe_. It was the only way I could stop being so afraid."

The question was so awkward it made Annie cringe, but she had to ask. "Do you need something like that right now?"

Hal shrugged. "It doesn't work if I'm the one to decide. When I can't trust myself, I need someone else to..." he raised his hand, fluttered it vaguely in midair, and then dropped it back down to his knees, "make the decisions."

"Okay." The whole idea was too uncomfortable. She really wanted to save it for a last resort. "I think we should try something else first."

"...all right."

"You said tasks, orders?" she ventured.

"Yeah."

Annie wasn't sure how to go about giving a grown man orders. She'd never been in the military or police, where that kind of thing happened. She guessed it happened in prison, too. Did that make her his jailer?

Putting aside the unsettling thought, she focused on the most obvious task. "First, take a shower. A quick one. Fifteen minutes?" Annie flicked her fingers in his direction. "You're a mess."

He actually smiled at her, one of his disarmingly sweet smiles. It made her feel terribly responsible. Without another word, he got up and walked out, his steps sure and smooth. He looked confident for the first time since she'd come up to talk.

Annie stood and paced the room. She had to figure out what was next in this odd game of Simon Says.

vVv

When Hal came back in, she could feel the damp warmth of the shower coming off him. He smelled citrus-y, too, like the cheap shampoo he and Tom used. There was a towel around his waist, and one over his shoulders.

"Um," Annie said, distracted by how low the towel was riding on his hips.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "I need to dress."

"Oh!" Blushing, Annie turned her back. "Go ahead," she mumbled, wondering if she should rent-a-ghost out. Or would that ruin the authoritarian image she was supposed to be cultivating?

He didn't seem bothered by her presence. She heard him rummaging around for a minute, and then he said "Done."

Turning back around, she saw he'd put on a black Henley and trousers. He was rubbing a towel through his hair casually, his feet still bare. Minutes passed in silence. When he was done with the towel, he fidgeted with it. "Is there... a plan?" he asked.

"Yes!" Annie said, relieved to have him start the conversation. "Yes. There is definitely _a plan_," she tried to sound very confident and went a little overboard with it. "And a very well planned plan it is!" she enthused, then winced at herself.

Hal nodded at her like he was humoring a crazy person. "Do I get to know what the plan is?" he asked. The words themselves were abrupt, but his voice soft and controlled. She guessed he was making an effort not to snap at her.

"Um. Yeah!" Annie grabbed up the knitting she'd found. Holding it out to him she said, "You promised me this days ago."

"I did," he admitted. "I'm sorry?"

Annie waved her hand, brushing apologies aside. "How long would it take you to finish it?"

He pursed his lips. "At this stage," he said, looking at it thoughtfully, "- about three or four hours."

"Okay. Good," she said. "You're going to take this," she stepped forward, pressing the unfinished baby jumper into his hands, "sit there," she pointed to his small white couch, "and finish it."

Looking down at the item in his hand, he seemed unconvinced.

"...is that not distracting enough? I'm going to be Taskmaster Annie and supervise. Like, _grrr! Eyes on your task!"_ Her impression of Taskmaster Annie was met with a nonplussed look from Hal. "...It will help if I'm here, right?" She just figured it would.

"Yeah," he said. "Thank you." He walked over to the couch and settled in.

"Can I borrow one of your...?" Annie asked, gesturing at his small bookshelf.

"Feel free," he replied without looking up from the knitting needles.

Annie picked a book at random and then sat crossed-legged at the end of his bed, trying to focus on the words instead of the situation.

"Ugh," Annie harrumphed, shutting the book decisively.

"Is something wrong?" Hal asked, looking up. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

Feeling silly, Annie said. "It's just... this book," she held it up in his direction so he could see the title: 'The Brothers Karamazov.' "I forgot how _depressing_ it is."

The tension around his eyes relaxed. "Life is depressing," he said, like it was some kind of deep thought.

Annie rolled her eyes. As if she didn't already know that! Who exactly was spending her night keeping her friend from killing people? While _dead_? This girl! Annie Sawyer knew depressing as well as anybody. "Yes!" she said. "That's my point. Life is depressing. I don't know why you'd want that in your books, too. Why not read something nice?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Reading can help you escape," Hal said. "Or it can help you look at yourself. I prefer the latter."

That made sense. If anybody was a dark introspection kind of bloke, it was Hal. "You're a bit Russian, aren't you," she joked, crinkling her nose.

The corner of Hal's lips quirked. "Far worse than that, I should think," he joked back. Only it wasn't that funny because it was so true. He could be far worse than a lot of things in his way.

"Yeah," Annie replied, pushing that thought away. She got up to check the bookshelf for more options. "Do you have any Austen or is it all doom and gloom in here?" she mused, running her fingers over the titles.

"You'll find a copy of 'Persuasion' on the second shelf," he offered.

"Sounds about right," she said, picking it up. "Broken promises and regret. Darkest thing she ever wrote. I can see why you have it!" She gave him a smile to ease the sting of her words.

"I consider its conclusion the most hopeful of all her work," Hal defended, appearing unruffled by her teasing.

"Oh?" Annie settled back down on his bed, sitting cross-legged. She brushed her fingers over the book's green leather cover. "Why do you say that?"

As he spoke, she watched his hands work steadily on the jumper, "Austen didn't shy away from the... 'doom and gloom.' Because of that, the reconciliation feels earned. If a writer is going to ask you to believe in a hopeful conclusion, it has to feel earned. Otherwise... it has no weight. It's just an empty lie. You might as well read about Father Christmas."

He seemed earnest, but he was calm about it. He spoke as if they were at a book club and he was just letting her know his opinion. "You've thought a lot about this," she said, impressed, even though she disagreed. What was wrong with Father Christmas exactly?

"I've had a lot of time on my hands," he replied, giving her a wry smile.

Annie grinned back, opening the book.

vVv

'Persuasion' wound along its familiar path, years of regret carried forward into reconciliation, and all of Anne Elliot's sorrows finally swallowed up in joy. Except... Annie read aloud from the last passage, "'the dread of a future war was all that could dim her sunshine.'" Looking up at Hal, she said: "Most hopeful ending? I don't know..." As she spoke, Annie saw that he was leaning back against the couch with his hands resting on his knees, a finished baby jumper beside him. He was giving her one of his disarmingly tender looks. It always made her feel warm and a little flustered when he did that.

"You've been waiting?" she asked.

"Not long." He gave her a sweet little smile. "I didn't like to interrupt you two."

"Us two...?"

"You and Jane," he clarified, pointing at the book in her lap.

"Ooh," Annie said, delighted to think of it like that. Her and Jane, having a chat across the centuries. "She's good company, isn't she?"

"The very best," he agreed. "I've nearly lost count of the times I've read that book, in one edition or another."

A thought occurred to Annie. "Did you get to read it when it first came out?"

Hal's expression froze. "I..." His hands flexed against his knees. "I was occupied with other pursuits."

It was obvious from the careful way he said it that he'd been wreaking havoc. Annie felt her heart sink. "You know," she said, "it's silly, but I was pretending that we were just ordinary people. Friends sharing a quiet evening, knitting and reading together, because it was nice and we _wanted_ to instead of..." She brushed her hair back from her face, shrugged. "Silly of me," she repeated.

"Not silly at all," he assured her, leaning forward. "It can be that, too. It was. But it doesn't help pretending the rest of it isn't there as well."

"Doesn't it?" Annie asked. "Since I've died, and even before that, I can't tell you how often denial has been the only thing that let me feel okay." She gave him a self-deprecating smile. "I've grown rather attached to it."

As she spoke, his expression softened. "I can understand that," he said, "but it's different for me. I can't have that. It's not safe."

"Why not?"

"It would be too easy to start making excuses for myself. Justifications for the things I've done. From there it's a slippery slope to the way I used to think. Before." He shook his head. "You'd be amazed at what can be rationalised."

Annie pondered that. "When you've wanted to talk to me before," she said, "is _this _the kind of thing you meant?" It wasn't bad at all.

"Why?" he asked, giving her a searching look. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know," she said, feeling relieved. "Less psychology and more... gory details, I guess?"

"I don't think gory details would be good for either of us."

"Well that's okay, then." She smiled. "You can talk to me whenever you want. If it's like this."

"You're very kind," he said. It was a common enough phrase, but he said it like he meant it, awkward intensity in full swing. And his expression... Annie felt her heart give a little jolt. He was looking at her like she was wonderful.

"Well, I've got you slaving away all night, haven't I?" she joked, changing the subject. "That doesn't sound very nice of me. Speaking of... let me get a look at the new jumper?" she asked, patting a spot beside her on the bed.

He came over and sat down close enough that their arms brushed. Annie liked that, but wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Or the adoring looks.

"I have yet to add buttons," he said as he handed her the lilac jumper.

She spread it out over her knee, admiring his work. The main body of it was done in a loosely knit pattern which closed into a tighter design at the collar and cuffs. "That's okay. It looks great. I like the, um...?" she brushed her fingers over the tighter knit, and looked at him questioningly.

"Garter stitch," he said. "It's quite easy. And the openwork," he continued, "is a ribbed eyelet pattern of only moderate complexity."

"Oh," she said, not entirely following the technical terms. "Why do you do that?"

"Do... what?" he asked, looking between her and the jumper. "Garter stitch? I find that the effect, when combined with openwork is-"

"No. Um. I mean - when you make something, you always tell me that it's not that special or you point out some flaw I'd never even notice. Why do you do that?"

"Oh." He smoothed the fabric of his trousers and then clasping his hands together. "I suppose I don't want you to think it's better than it is. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."

He was talking about more than baby clothes, and they both knew it. "You haven't disappointed me yet," she said.

He closed his eyes, as if he was soaking up her words. "It will happen," he said quietly. He took a breath and opened his eyes, looked straight at her. "It can hardly be worth the effort."

Annie reached out, clasping his hand. "It is."

He moved his hand. She thought he was going to pull away, but instead he just tilted it as if admiring the way it looked beneath hers. Then he said, "You have such lovely hands," and that was when it happened. That was when all his admiring looks and the sheer simple human need to reach out became too much. Annie felt a swell of affection for him and darted forward, pressing a kiss low on his jaw. Even in the heat of the moment she wasn't brave enough to go for his lips.

He stilled, and then sighed. He turned his hand over, stroking his thumb across hers. Taking that as encouragement, Annie continued, pressing soft kisses along his jaw, making her way to the tender spot beneath his earlobe. He smelled good-up close the citrus shampoo he used had a note of mint -and he felt nice too. Warm and solid. Not sickly hot the way humans and werewolves felt, just... cozy.

Annie lingered against him, all but nuzzling his neck, but she didn't go further. It didn't seem right. They were both feeling vulnerable; they might need to act like this never happened tomorrow. And anything short of lip to lip contact was deniable in Annie's book. Besides, it was kind of nice to be in control, just enjoying the sensation of wanting and touching at her own leisurely pace. As she went along, she heard him making a soft, delighted sound low in his throat and it was so delicious she wanted to climb into his lap and devour him. When it got too frustrating to continue without turning this into a proper snog, Annie brought her other hand up, stroking it gently through the soft hairs at the back of his neck and then pulled away. It was a clear signal that they were done, and he took it as such.

"Um," he said. He turned to look at her, his eyes bright and a bit dazed. He looked so pretty like that. "What's... uh." He cleared his throat. "What's next? The next... assignment."

He was really trying to collect himself. It was sweet. "Oh, bed, I guess," she said.

His eyes widened. "Bed?" he choked out, pulling his hand away from hers.

Annie winced. "To sleep!" she clarified. "For _sleeping_. Just sleeping. You should sleep." He thought, what, she was going to jump him when they hadn't even had a proper kiss? Please! She was _not _a cheap date, no matter how cute the bloke. "It's gone midnight," she added, standing.

"Oh... right."

"Well, goodnight, then. I'll just," she waved at the door, "go, then."

Hal picked the jumper up of his bed, held it out to her. "Don't forget your..."

"Oh! Yes. Thanks." She took it from his hand, nodding. "Thanks. Thank you." She gave him a tight smile and then didn't so much open the door and leave as flicker, losing her solidity, and pass straight through it in her haste.


	2. Chapter 2

Hal picked up the book Annie had left behind when she fled the room. He ran his fingers over the ridges of the gold pattern inlaid in its green leather cover, then opened it to a familiar place, reading words he knew by heart: 'You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.'

Standing, Hal walked over to his small bookshelf and replaced the volume. He straightened it carefully, so it would perfectly align with the other books. He thought about hope and agony. Between the two of them, hope was crueler by far.

Tonight Annie had made him feel safe for the first time since Leo's death. She had made him feel safe, and then so much more. Tracing his fingers over his jaw, Hal shivered, imagined he could still feel the cool touch of her lips. How lonely she must be, unseen and unheard by all but the world's monsters.

He moved his hand down to his shoulder, dug his fingers into the skin there, its damning mark hidden just beneath his shirt. Perhaps he could obscure it with a fresher injury, pretend he had been attacked. He pulled his shirt up, pressed his thumb into the burn hard, wincing. If Annie ever saw...

At best he might win her trust, talk her around to the unreliable nature of prophecy. At worst, she would set her lovely hands to his death. He had seen her kill in defense of her child before. She had more than enough power. And her strength of will was a perpetual astonishment to him. When she'd come back to rescue Eve from Kirby, she was like an avenging angel, aglow with the light of her purpose.

He had looked at her and thought that, if love was as strong as death, her love must be stronger still. He had craved some of her affection for himself. Hope was cruel. It had led him to worse things than hatred or fear ever had. He hoped he could prove the prophecy wrong. But if he wasn't strong enough, it would be Annie and Tom who paid the price. He let them believe in him, and let himself believe that he could prove his worth in their patchwork family.

Hal pressed his forehead against the side of the bookshelf, sighing. It was amazing what could be rationalised.

vVv

When his alarm went off at 5:30, Hal felt like he'd barely slept. Dragging himself out of bed, he stumbled into the hallway and then leaned against the wall near the bathroom door, settling in to wait. The shower was running inside, but Tom never took long. Feeling bleary, he rubbed his eyes and yawned, not looking forward to work.

Mid-yawn, Annie appeared in front of him. Hal snapped his mouth shut and stood up straight. "Morning, Annie," he said, envying her. If only _he _could disappear at will. Though perhaps that would be unwise: once he managed it, he'd likely do little else.

"Hi!" she chirped. "You're up! Good. I thought I heard you two moving around down here." She smiled at him, showing teeth.

Hal sighed internally. While his response to anxiety was to freeze up and withdraw, Annie was quite different. She just poured more and more enthusiasm on and hoped for the best. Sometimes he found it endearing. At other times it felt like she was tap dancing on his frazzled nerves.

Annie leaned forward, screwing her face up in sympathy. "You look tired."

"I am," he said, not sure where this was going. She was acting like nothing had happened between them. Perversely, that made Hal wish 'nothing' would happen again; more than he expected he would, considering all the dire possibilities he'd obsessively catalogued last night.

"I've just the thing for that-" she started. At that moment the bathroom door opened and Tom stepped out. He blinked at the two of them, rubbing a towel over his short hair. "'Morning," he said, nodding at them.

Hal nodded back. For her part, Annie gave Tom a big smile. "Good morning, Tom!" she sang out in reply. Tom started to walk away and Annie turned back to Hal. "As I was saying, I've got just the thing for that. You're not going to work today!"

She gave him another forced smile.

"I'm not?" Hal asked. Beside him Tom froze mid-step. "He's not?" he asked at the same time, turning back. He looked as confused as Hal felt, his eyebrows drawing together.

Annie glanced between them. "Yeah."

"Why's that then?" Tom asked.

"Well," she looked to Hal as if gauging his reaction, "you could say Hal and I had a chat last night. And I thought he could do with a little break from, uh," she clasped her hands, twisting them nervously, "all the yummy people at the cafe. There's lots of things that need to be done around here, so we'll keep busy enough." She turned toward Hal. "I've made a list. You like lists!"

She was trying so hard. Hal could feel the tension vibrating off her, a faint electric charge in the air. He sympathized. Apparently last night hadn't left her with much peace of mind either.

"Oh," he said, choosing to embrace the change of plans. It would be awkward, but the thought of not having to be around humans for a full 24 hours was a welcome one. A little more sleep would be nice too. "Okay."

"You sure skiving off like that's such a good idea?" Tom asked.

Annie's face fell. It was painful to watch. Hal winced internally. One simply did not get between a member of this household and their coping mechanisms. They were all, in one way or another, half mad most of the time.

"What's wrong with it?" Annie asked.

"Well, he's got to get back out there, doesn't he?" Tom lifted his hand and made an arcing motion with it mid-air. "Back on the horse."

Annie's eyes narrowed. "'Back on the horse'? That's not a reason, Tom, that's a _cliche_," she huffed. "And this," she mimicked Tom's arcing motion. "What's that supposed to be? ...Show jumping?"

Tom ducked his head, looking hurt. "I thought we'd be getting back to normal today, that's all." He waved in Hal's direction. "Besides, it's just gonna make it harder for him if we break routine."

Tom had a point there. Hal looked between the two of them, feeling torn. The peace Annie had given him last night had been so unexpected and so welcome. He couldn't possibly go against her, not if it meant never having that again. But Tom was his best friend. His presence was the only thing that made going out into the world endurable most days. How was Hal supposed to pick a side?

"Everybody takes a day off now and then," Annie said, her tone softening. "I don't see how it hurts anything. It's like a sick day, Tom. Everybody gets sick days."

Tom shook his head. "But can't you just trust me on this, Annie?" He spread his hands. "I know you don't like me grammar and whatnot and maybe you think I'm just a dumb kid but I know this."

Instead of compromising, they were holding their positions. How long would this go on? What if they started making a habit of it? Hal's fingers twitched as he fought the urge to start tapping his thumb against them. The comforting rhythm would help so much, just one, two, three, four, repeat. One, two, three, four, repeat. Steady and certain.

"He," she said, pointing her thumb in Hal's direction, "asked me to help." She crossed her arms. "Last night," she added, nodding firmly. "So I'm helping." She seemed to think that settled it.

"Did he? 'Coz he asked me the same. And I've been doing it. All on me own." Here Tom crossed his own arms, having presented his bona fides.

Hal's worries for the two of them momentarily evaporated with a swell of anger. It was singularly humiliating to have to stand here quietly and listen to this. How dare they talk about him like he wasn't here? Did they value the trust he'd given them so little? He had asked for Tom's help in a moment of friendship. And with Annie... the cool tingle of her kisses was still fresh in his memory.

"Excuse me," he said, moving to step past Annie.

As one, she and Tom turned to look at him. "Where are you going?" Annie asked. "We're having a conversation."

"Yes, _you_ are," Hal said. "But since _I _appear to be so very unnecessary, I think my time would be better spent brushing my teeth while you two divide the spoils." He crossed his own arms to match their confrontational poses. "That is," he continued, "of course, only if you can agree on that. What say you," he made a smooth gesture with his hand, sweeping the air between them, "should I be allowed to make such a momentous decision myself?"

As soon as he finished speaking he realized his mistake. He's just given them a common enemy: him. Their frustrations with each other were quickly turned to their new target. Tom frowned at him; Annie's jaw dropped. Annie spoke first, "But you asked for our help! And now you're sneering at us like this is _our _fault?"

Tom looked over at Annie, nodding along with her. "Yeah. What are you getting shirty with us for?"

Hal pressed his palms together and took a deep breath, striving for patience. "I do not appreciate being spoken about as if I were a wild animal you're obligated to control."

"But we ain't done that." Tom said, uncrossing his arms. He turning to Annie. "Have we, Annie?"

"Of course not," Annie said, giving Tom's shoulder a comforting pat.

"We're just trying to help ya." Tom said, the look of a hurt puppy about him.

"Yeah. Hal, be reasonable, you did ask..."

"I asked for your help. I did not ask for," he made a face, "this chaotic nonsense." Their expressions held only incomprehension. "I do everything -everything that I do, each insane ritual, every schedule, every task-to be more of a person. I do not wish to have the meager gains I have made be so- to be so diminished..." He raised his fingers to his temples and rubbed soothing little circles. "I did not ask for this!"

His outburst was met with stunned silence. Hal closed his eyes, feeling miserable and trapped. Perhaps there was only one mad person in this house, and it was merely Tom and Annie's great misfortune to bear with him.

"Ookay," Annie said, wringing her hands. "Something is going wrong here and we," she motioned between her and Tom, "don't understand so we're going to put on our listening caps and you're going to talk us through it. All right? Take as long as you need."

"But if you take too long none of it will matter anymore 'coz we'll be late for work," Tom threw in.

Annie gave him a little smack in the arm. "Listening caps, Tom." She mimed pulling a hat down over her head, "Listening caps!" Turning back to Hal, she smiled. "What do you want us to do?"

"I _need_," he said, using the stronger word, "for you both to agree."

Annie and Tom exchanged a glance.

"We can do that," she said. She flicked her fingers toward the bathroom door. "You brush," she put her arm around Tom's shoulder and steered him toward his bedroom, "and we'll talk."

vVv

Hal took his time, using the routine of brushing and flossing to calm his thoughts. The mirror above the sink reflected an empty room. He stood facing it anyway. Most vampires liked to imagine their lack of reflection was a twisted compliment: proof their evil was so great that the laws of nature herself recoiled in horror. Hal had himself had played up that angle for new recruits before. Privately, he thought it was bollocks. They were nothing more than a good object lesson in what people could do if they never had to look at themselves.

Over the years, he'd found other ways to face himself. He set aside the lies he used to tell himself. He made friends and tried to always give them the truth. They became a kind of mirror. But without them, he felt lost. When Leo and Pearl passed on, Hal had thought that the person he'd been with them would die too. Just disappear, the Invisible Man stripped of his bandages. Tom and Annie had kept that from happening.

That was more than enough. He could live without the rest. It was wrong to expect either of them to be able to do what Leo had done, when Hal himself couldn't even put a name to it. If they couldn't, it was just another comfort to be sacrificed. As long as they were here, it was enough.

Raising his hand to the mirror, Hal pressed his fingers against the cool surface. When let his hand drop, the smudges of his fingerprints remained. He carefully wiped them away.

vVv

They were in Tom's room, sitting on the bed. Tom had Eve cradled in the crook of his arm, and Annie was leaning in close, tickling Eve's tummy. The baby's hands flailed as she laughed. Hal felt his shoulders relax at the cozy scene. Looking closer, Hal saw that Annie had dressed Eve in the first outfit he'd embroidered for her. She seemed to have a soft spot for it. Seeing that made Hal feel part of the happy picture they made. It was a good feeling. He leaned in the doorway, enjoying the moment.

Soon enough Annie caught sight of him. "We worked out a plan," she said. "Together. Didn't we, Tom?"

"Yeah," Tom said.

"Do you want to tell him?" she offered.

"Go ahead."

"We worked out a compromise," she told Hal. "You two go into work," she made a walking motion with her fingers, "as usual, but from here on out you've got back up: me! Either of you can ring me up here and I'll pop over to pick you up."

"...pick me up?" He wasn't sure how that would work.

"Yeah. That's the tricky part. I _think_ I can rent-a-ghost with you since you're, um..." she bit her lip, "not technically alive."

"I see," he said, amused by her apparent concern over offending him.

"But we've got to test it out first, see if it'll work," Tom said.

"You want to experiment on me." It was a discomforting thought, he had to admit. He'd envied Annie's ability to disappear earlier, but the thought of actually being taken along when she went 'rent-a-ghost'-ing (why _did_ she call it that?) was not a good one.

Annie grimaced. Her earlier concern made sense to him now. He assumed she knew this was coming and suspected he wouldn't like it. That itself convinced him to go through with what they'd planned; they were surpassing his expectations and he felt he ought to surpass theirs as well.

"We've agreed," Tom said, "that if something goes wrong you can have a proper sick day."

"If I'm not proper dead," Hal observed wryly. It seemed fitting to him that there would be a cost for Annie and Tom's cooperation, and that he would be the one to pay it. Truthfully, Hal would have been more uncomfortable if there weren't such an obvious downside. He didn't trust things that came without a price.

"...you don't have to do it," Annie hastened to say. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. We could always figure something else out. I don't know what..." she trailed off, "but I know we could."

He didn't imagine they'd understand if he explained that he found the very discomfort of the situation reassuring, so he didn't try. "No. Please." He took a breath, extended his hands. "By all means, let's experiment."

She came over, taking his hands in her cool grasp. "Okay?"

He nodded.

Her grip tightened and then everything was gone. There was nothing around him anymore. All he could feel was Annie's presence tethering them together. He was pure awareness without protection, a wispy thought torn at from all sides, and if he lost focus for an instant...

Hal's body slammed back together, solid around him once more. He gasped, a drowning man resurfaced. Annie's hands slipped from his as she twirled and punched the air in celebration. Hal steadied himself with a hand on the mantelpiece, shuddering. He wondered if he'd just felt what it was like to be a ghost and, if so, how it was possible that Annie was still sane.

When her elation ebbed, Annie frowned at him. "You look peaky. Are you all right?"

It had been singularly terrifying. "I'm fine," he said.

She patted his hand. "Tom!" she called out. "We did it!"

When Hal looked up, Tom was in the doorway, smiling at the two of them. "Brilliant," he said, then glanced down at Eve. "Look what our Annie can do," he crooned, giving the baby a gentle bounce. Annie stepped over, grinning.

"Best you not do that trick in front of just anyone," Tom said, waving a hand between them. "Could come in handy in a fight."

"You really think so?" Annie said.

"Could be." He turned his attention to Hal. "Do the Old Ones know a vampire and a ghost can do that?"

"I didn't," Hal said. "And neither did they the last I was aware."

Tom nodded. "It'll be a good one to have up our sleeves, then. In war, surprise is the best tactical advantage." Reacting to their looks of surprised, he gave a self-deprecating shrug and added, "McNair used to say."

Hal regretted letting his surprise show. There had been a confidence in Tom as he spoke that they rarely saw. It should seem in conflict with the effortlessly gentle way he was holding Eve, but somehow the two felt natural together in him. Tom could plan war strategy and cuddle his little adoptive niece just as comfortably. Perhaps he would never be the most sophisticated of men, but there was much to be admired in him.

"I'm glad you're thinking like that, Tom." She nudged his shoulder. "We make a good team, huh?"

"Yeah," Tom mumbled, looking down. Hal could swear he saw a blush work its way across the young man's face. Tom cleared his throat, then tilted his head toward the clock. "We best get dressed," he said, backing out of the room. "Customers'll be waitin'." Then he was gone.

Annie turned to Hal. "You look better."

Hal released his death grip on the mantelpiece and straightened. "Yes." The three of them had found their footing. He knew he should feel good about that, and if he was too overwhelmed at the moment to feel it he should make a show of it anyway.

Annie stepped forward with a smile. "Great! How about another short trip?" she enthused, wiggling her outstretched fingers.

"No!" Hal stepped back, nearly stumbling. "Stop." He felt sick at the very thought.

Her wiggling fingers stilled, then her hand dropped. As did her fake enthusiasm. Looking him right in the eye now, she said: "That's all you have to say, you know? If you don't like something. That's all you ever have to say." Her eyes went to the bed. "You could have said that last night," she continued. Her expression was firm, but she was gripping her arm with her left hand, a self-protective gesture, and she wasn't meeting his eyes anymore.

"I didn't," he said.

"I know you didn't," Annie shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm saying you could have. I wouldn't have been angry."

"No," he shook his head, wishing he were better at this. "I didn't want you to stop."

"Oh!" She blinked, tilted her head. "But you seemed... upset."

"No. I... no. Just confused, when you said," he shrugged, "uh, what you said. About going to bed." He rubbed his thumb against the back of his fingers, feeling very exposed.

"Oh," she repeated.

Since the conversation was already unspeakably awkward, Hal took a chance. "When we," he gestured at the wall, "traveled. Is that what it's always like for you? As a ghost."

"Um, I don't know. What did you feel?"

It was hard to explain. "I've been at war with this," he touched his arm, "body for so long. But it's a home. And for a moment it was gone. I've-" he looked right at her, "I've never felt so cold."

Tears came into her eyes. "It's not always that bad," she whispered, wiping at them.

Hal felt as if her pain was inside him now, as if caring about her had physically connected them somehow. "I'm sorry. I wish there was something we could do."

"But you do," Annie said. "You really do. All of you." She paused. "It's just... you told me once that you were hanging on by your fingernails. Remember that?"

"Yeah." Not one of his most stellar moments.

"I know what that's like, that's all." She frowned. "Did you feel the storm?"

He had felt something like that. There had been a force, like high winds pressing against him, pushing and pulling. "Yes."

"I can feel that," she said. "All the time. I feel it howling outside. Trying to tear me apart. But, Hal, it's _outside_. It's not in here, not when I have you three. All of you make this a good place," her voice caught on the last two words. Tears came again and this time she didn't wipe them away. "Safe. This is a safe place." Her face was so kind and sad. "You're not a burden, you know? None of you. You and Tom and little Eve - you're my home_._"

Hal felt a swell of emotion, longing to touch her, make her words true. He had been so selfish. Last night he'd gone over the dangers of letting her reach out to him, examined her motives and everything that could go wrong. But he hadn't thought how much she might need someone to reach out to her. He wasn't alone in needing people to make him real. It was as if there was no mirror where Annie could find her reflection either.

He stepped over to her, gave her shoulder a squeeze and then let his hand drop. He was too unsettled to manage more contact than that just now, but he hoped it would help. Searching around for something else he could do, he remembered... "You made a list!"

"Huh?"

"You made a list of things for me to do," he explained. "For today."

"That! Oh, hey, don't worry about that." She rolled her eyes, "You know me and lists. I'm always making one."

"I could do it this weekend, though. If you like." He could do that. He could always do that, regardless of where his head was at, and it would be good for both of them. He didn't know how to say it, but he wanted her to understand that.

"I would," she said. "I would like that." Then she smiled. She'd been smiling all morning, trying to make things better. But this one was real. He wasn't sure how he could tell, but he felt it. There was something about the way her eyes crinkled up. She looked so alive. He felt warmed inside by the sight, filled up by the joy of her joy, so much that his own lips curved up in response.

She darted forward, kissing him on the cheek. He drew in a quick breath, but before he could say anything, she'd travelled away, 'rent-a-ghosting' to some other part of the house. Hal touched his face, lingering in the sweetness of her kiss, then set about getting ready for work.

-end-

"_When you have nobody to make a cup of tea for, when nobody_

_needs you, that's when I think life is truly over."_

-Audrey Hepburn


End file.
